I’m not getting anywhere
on this quest to
find the words.
Words that sing,
that have meaning,
that wake me up.
They lie dormant
in their little beds
only wanting to rest.
So I will acquiesce and let them be
~ after I have finished this poem
and said good night.
“Of your unspoken words you are the master;
of your spoken word the servant;
and of your written word the slave.”
~ Quaker proverb
Coming into a world
so down trodden and
beaten, each child born
knows only of
hunger and a yearning
to be cared for.
With the blossom of youth,
accepting life as it has become,
the yearning is still to be loved.
In the journey of
moments,
years and
decades
there is more doing than being
while beneath it all
remains the desire to be loved.
“We are all born for love. It is the principle
of existence and it’s only end.”
~ Benjamin Israeli, British Prime Minister & writer
 |
| Kelowna Farmers Market 2008 |
Memory lane ~
always populated with
smiling faces and scenes.
Opportunity swirled me
back to my Texas journey;
onward to my Kelowna years
at Hazeldell Orchards.
Feeling Lubbock's hot dry air,
hearing and seeing tones of a
another land; the warm hearts
of colleagues in a golden time.
I could feel the carpeted halls,
step inside the curve of the
nursing station, as crowded
and busy as my memories
In Kelowna, air was moist and cool,
pears and apples were juicy and crisp
at my weekend ‘job’ where
the hearts were just as warm ~
a time when my nursing work
was set aside for a few days,
or a month, to live, laugh and
work outside while seasons changed.
Memory lane ~
always populated with
smiling faces and scenes.
“Nostalgia: A device that removes the ruts and potholes from memory lane.”
~ Doug Larson, columnist & editor
(1926 - 2017)
I don’t know when I knew
that writing would take me
on a journey,
dipping into and around
roads across quilted prairies,
a hot air balloon soaring high in the sky
a jet ski that would send me
splashing across
the top of waterways long or wide,
through forested granite mountains
tromping through snow banks in the shivering cold
sketching my own journey with epilepsy
but when my pen
found notebooks and journals
and each morning with tea
to sit and write yesterday,
or plans for today
or dreams for next year or 10 years along.
When I saw shelves and stacks of boxes
filled with all the morning musings
I guessed that I had known all along.
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
~ Pablo Neruda, poet and Senator of Chile
(1904 - 1973)
To try when muscle and brain
tell another story
To ignore normal,
to slip into cosy,
to nap,
to let turbulent waters settle.
Reasons are of little use,
mere curiosities.
Only knowing that
challenges physical and mental
slow drained eagerness and energy
until only a drop or two were left.
Challenges set by little old me
to participate in life as it is
to learn and to share.
to develop a community of writers.
It is a draining, but rewarding journey.
“When you put the hard work in…reward will come out.”
~ Johnnie Dent Jr., author
Forks and knives
China and special mugs
Knickknacks and photographs
Quilts and family art
School days til yesterday
Story told of life’s journey
Acquaintances or strangers
Colleagues and co-workers
Roommates and families
Families ~ generational tapestries
Youngsters curious and learning
Elders seasoned and still learning
Dogs and cats ~ furry family members
Games played
Dances danced
Movies and plays
Concerts and symphonies
School and higher education
Gifts given and received through it all.
“It is good to have an end to journey toward,
but it is the journey that matters in the end.”
~ Ursula K. Le Guin, author
(1929 - 2018
